


Be My Anchor

by Podabop



Category: South Park
Genre: //he l p, ??? - Freeform, Cuddles, Fluff, Fluff as hell, Hurt/Comfort, Just the Beginning, M/M, Nightmares, Slight horror, barely, s/o to titles and summaries amiright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podabop/pseuds/Podabop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares are hell for Tweek Tweak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based loosely on actual events. Bored with nothing to do in the middle hours of the morning, I decided to turn my experience into writing. XD I'm planning to rewrite this at some later time, I tried a slight change in writing style from input by a friend so it might seem a bit rocky. Any tips or opinions would be really helpful! I'm still trying to find a comfortable method for both me and the reader. 
> 
> Anyway, the beginning is second person and slight horror, both a first for me, so just a warning for that. Man, I just can't get away from bed scenes. I'm a real sucker for them. XD Lastly, I apologize if it seems strange or unclear near the end, I got tired of looking at it so I kind of rushed it ^^" Enjoy!
> 
> (Side note: Honestly Craig gives me an excuse to geek out about astronomy and cosmology so sorry not sorry about that. XD)

     The little girl stayed behind the door after it was closed. The there was no way you were going to drink it, so if you procrastinated perhaps you could make it. The chances were slim, but you were hopeful nonetheless. The door was some old saloon one, at mid height and more like a gate, the dark shade of wood fitting to the dimly-lit setting. Not entirely effective for keeping a self-aware life form in. 

She was reaching out under the door now, with what looked like a pair of scissors. Where the hell did she get that? Maybe forcing her into a room wasn't the best idea. A movement caught your eye and you looked over to the corner of the room you were previously standing in, the lights still flickering and dim, the racks of old and bloody medical equipment still pressed against the wall. The woman who had been with you the whole ordeal came over to you eagerly, a crazed look of pride stretching over her pale face. She laughed at the girl trapped behind the door, oh how powerful she seemed now blocked in. You didn't laugh though. Nothing was for certain in this fucked up world, and if there was one thing about creepy kids, you knew that they could never be trusted.

As you watched with a tight throat, mere seconds after your thought came the woman's scream of pain. She yanked her hand back from teasing the young source of terror, finger bloody from being stabbed with the pair of scissors. Panic floods through you, you know what's bound to happen. As the door swings open, you put your hands up in self-defense and play it cool, like you have been the whole time. It was completely unlike your personality, but lying and adapting was how you survived. 

“I'll drink it I'll drink it I'll drink it!” you say, shrugging and already walking back towards the metal table in the corner. The little girl's blonde hair looked a little disheveled, the blood from earlier dried in her hair. Her deep red Victorian dress made shuffling noises as it moved; that's how you could tell she was following you. 

The woman had apparently bit her tongue, clutching her wounded hand and also joining you at the table. Her own dark hair was falling out of the pony tail she sported, pieces and chunks of the brown follicles a mess and fallen sporadically around her face, evidence of the terrible time you and her had gone through. The little girl never spoke. She only looked at you with her not-so-innocent eyes, holding the scissors blade point first as a threat. 

You looked down into the clear cup, at the liquid that really wasn't much more than three tablespoons. It was dark red, thick, and almost seemed to shake. Blood, your blood, stared up at you, the inevitable becoming clear. Escaping was impossible. Nothing could get you out of this situation.

You glanced up at the man that sat on a stool near the end of the table, the kingpin of everything that had happened to you and the woman over the past who knows how long. He smirked, skin around the corners of his mouth wrinkling and exposing blood on his teeth. Besides that, he was crystal clean. The woman beside you was also a fighter, it had been her turn to drink her blood earlier, a poison to you both. Instead she smoked it somehow, though it did nothing. It made the air poisonous and your lungs hurt, and the blood was forced down her throat anyway. No funny business now. 

The girl, his servant somehow, seemed satisfied and handed you the scissors, walking away past the room you had earlier locked her in. Well, this was it. Raising the glass to your lips, you're prepared to drink. 

But then it all happened too fast. The look you caught in the woman's eyes, she wanted you to stab the man, now that you both had the chance. You wouldn't do it. If the girl came back, she'd kill you. Quickly you gave the scissors to the woman, and screamed as in one movement the instrument was thrust through his chest. She screamed as she repeatedly ripped his torso, blood everywhere, the disgusting sound of squishing internal parts and breaking bones. You screamed too, the sight was horrendous and you knew it was the end. In the corner of your eye you glimpsed the girl, running toward the scene, toward  _ you _ , at an inhuman speed. Your shrieks of horror shifted to one of “No,” hoping with an empty heart that she would spare you if it seemed you didn't want it to happen. Too late.

After the scissors were pulled from the woman's hands they were soon pushed through her back, the tips sticking out just below her diaphragm. Your screams didn't stop as her eyes widened, blood spilling from her mouth as she fell forward on the table. Yanked out of the now corpse, it was your turn.

Stab after stab, the girl mutilated your stomach. After all, your chest was as high as she could reach. The glass slipped from your hands, shattering as it hit the floor, but your own guttural sounds of pain and terror were all you heard. Over the sound of your insides begins torn up, over the sight of your blood splattering over your body, the last sound to register, was yours.

Tweek woke with a jolt, sitting up immediately.

Panting harder than he ever had in his life, he scrambled out from the blankets and against the wall, a bit too fast as his head and elbows came in contact with a hard thump. Almost breaking into a sweat, he looked around his room quickly. Too open, it felt way too open. Anything could get to him, they would barely have to try, he'd be completely at the mercy of a little girl with scissors or practically anything else.

The next thing painfully aware to him was his lack of a bed partner. Now not only was he totally defenseless, but there was no one he could use as a shield or even have as a weapon. Heart hammering in his chest, the sporadic teen swallowed heavily and scrambled to the light switch, legs wobbling as his room finally flooded with light.

Nearly running back to his bed, Tweek searched quickly for his phone on the bedside table, almost knocking everything off in the process. Once it was soundly in his hands, trembling fingers pressed the single number, his goal being on speed dial.

The phone rang for far too long in Tweek's opinion, giving him enough time to think, which wasn't good. Did he even have a pair of scissors in his room? Knowing himself, probably not. That couldn't end well. Obviously not if someone was going to kill him with it. Suddenly the line went quiet as it was picked up, a nasally voice coming through.

“Tweek?”

Quickly, said boy responded. “Talk to me.”

There was a pause before the voice replied, making Tweek's shaking a little more intense. “What?” it asked.

“I need you to- GAH! talk to me, C-Craig!”

Craig frowned at the urgency in his boyfriend's voice but complied, leaning back against the couch he was sitting in front of. “Well, you're calling me at ten in the morning which is new, usually you text, and never really now. I'd ask if you're alright but that's such a stupid phrase idiots say because obviously you're not, so instead I'd ask what happened. You don't sound like you want to talk though so I guess I'm just rambling. Uh, it's Saturday morning and I'm watching Red Racer, and I'm eating eggs. My morning has been fine so far I guess.”

As Craig spoke, Tweek could feel himself linking more with reality. This was a world where it was cold most of the time, he worked at his family's coffee shop, and his best friend was a cold and quiet nerd that happened to be in love with him. That part he didn't mind at all, because Tweek loved him too. There were no creepy buildings with low lighting and blood everywhere, no people to pressure him into drinking his own poisoned blood, just a small town with interesting people. 

“Honestly this episode wasn't even that good, this is when they started getting full of themselves. They got their heads out of their asses though, so it only lasted like eight episodes.”

Scooting away from the edge of his bed, Tweek pressed up against his wall in a tight ball. From here he could see almost everything in his room, the clothes thrown about and the toys scattered on the floor. An action figure caught his eye, arm sticking upward as if in salute. If moving fast enough, that could probably stab him, couldn't it? It'd be pretty dull too, so it'd hurt like hell… Breathing picking up again, Tweek clutched the phone tighter as he kicked another blanket away. A shaking hand reached up to the mess of blonde hair he was sporting, gripping a wad tightly as he shook.

A sound of shuffling came from the phone, Craig was probably putting a dish away. “But after that Kyle looked really pissed. Like you know how when he gets really worked up over Terrance and Phillip? It was like that but amplified, and honestly it was pretty fuckin’ funny. Stan was just standing there, he looked so stupid, he just let it happen because he didn't know what to do. It was hilarious, you should've been there.”

Craig paused after he shut the refrigerator door. Something really had gotten to Tweek, whether he was aware of it or not there were plenty of breathy noises and whimpers coming from his side of the phone. Leaning against the counter, he crossed his legs, eyebrows furrowed as he continued. 

“Hey, babe?” No response, just stammered breathing. “Tweek,” he said with more authority, calling for his partner's attention. A chirping noise, similar to a cat’s was his response. “You’re not okay, what can I do to help? You’re starting to worry me a little bit.”

On the other side of the line, curled in a tight ball, shaking and trembling, Tweek’s voice came over as a whisper. “Nng… just t-talk to me…” 

Back at the Tucker’s, the oldest of the siblings sighed and shook his head, pushing off the counter. “I love you, nut-job,” he muttered, reaching for his favorite hat, a bit worn from all the years. “I ran out of cigarettes four days ago, haven’t been back to pick any up. You’re rubbing off on me a bit I guess, all your complaining about it. Maybe I can kiss you finally without your nose wrinkling up all cute the way it does. Reminds me of Stripe sometimes.” 

The twitching blonde cracked a smile then, a light laugh escaping. The light was too much now, but there was no way in hell he was going back over there to turn it off. Possible weapons aside, Tweek was not taking chances to even consider what was under the bed. Toes spread from his usual state of on-edge unrest, his feet dug into the mattress as his boney fingers now clutched the pillow case. An anchor, of sorts, soft fabric rubbing between his finger pads as smooth as the voice speaking in his ear.

Craig. The thought alone brought a feeling of warmth and comfort that Tweek gladly appreciated and quite frankly needed. The boy was complaining about some something or other now, a dead squirrel or something. Tweek coughed slightly as he turned on his side, aching head resting on his arm. Losing sight of the end of his room, he peeked over the edge of his bed, huffing slightly at the effort.

“I flipped him off, he deserved it. I mean who does that? What an asshole. Oo boy, man, if he would’ve said  _ one  _ thing about Stripe though, I would’ve beaten his ass into the pavement right there and then,” Craig sat in his car, hand closed around the wheel and other on his phone. “You know I’m serious about it too, I really would have.”

A small smile sat on his face at the silence on the other side of the phone. No shaky breathing, no whines slipping past his weakened wall. It meant Tweek was more relaxed now, and that meant good progress. Backing the car out of the driveway, Craig continued talking as he headed to his boyfriend’s house.

Something shifted in the jittery boy’s room most likely to gravity, causing a few toys from the pile on his floor to fall down. Jolting suddenly, Tweek gasped loudly and darted to the other corner of his bed, already as close to the wall as he could get. He smacked his head against the hard surface, whimpering loudly at the impact and adrenaline. The phone dropped from his hand for a hot second and he cried out, reaching quickly for the fallen device, hands trembling and inaccurate.

Craig bit his lip as he heard the commotion, sighing slightly as he stopped at a red light. “Tweek? You holding up okay over there?” He didn’t hear anything in response and brushed fallen locks of hair out of his eye, hitting the gas a little too hard as the light turned green. He swallowed without realizing it, gripping the wheel a little tighter. After a moment, the unsteady sounds of Tweek’s breathing returned and Craig sighed. “Well, as I was saying, I don’t like punching people when I don’t need to.”

Muttering came over the line, stutters coming through even his humming, or whatever noise it would be labeled that was coming from the back of his throat. Tweek was pretty damn shaken up, even an idiot like Cartman would be able to tell by now.

“Hey, wanna go to the planetarium soo- asshole! Watch it, shit head! God damn… As I was trying to say, they’re having a show on Saturn next week, did you want to go with me?” Halfway through his sentence, some full-of-himself driver cut the Tucker off as he pulled into the lane. “You’d like Saturn, honestly it has some of the prettiest pictures. Have you seen it from the back? It’s gorgeous, almost like a Saturn eclipse. You know one of the most famous pictures of Earth came from that same mission? Later to be known as ‘The Pale Blue Dot.’ Carl Sagan and everything. Speaking of famous Earth pictures, you know the one of Earth from the moon? The one where it’s half showing. That was taken on Apollo 8, but it never got credit because it never landed on the moon. Stupid, right? Don’t touch moon dust and you’re not worth shit. Not like they freaking exited the atmosphere or anything, people demand too much. Greedy. Never learned to appreciate anything. Do you know how many times we’ve been to just the International Space Station, Tweek? Since 2000 Alone? I’ll tell you, 222 people, 18 countries. Two hundred and twenty-two, Tweek…”

Craig’s sudden cursing surprised the blonde, confusing him as he lie huddled in the corner, position uncomfortable as hell. His partner quickly continued though, giving him no chance to question. Hearing the usually cold male trail on so passionately about space brought him back into reality, his deeper voice trailing off. Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. Tweek went through as many techniques as he could remember, all other thought lost as Craig’s voice was the only thing he focused on. He felt better already, deep trembling breath relaxing his tight muscles. It was cute, Craig’s rambles about space. Tweek never understood any of it, but the way his boyfriend’s voice rose or his eyebrows furrowed or the corner of his lips upturned, voice then sounding whipsy and full of wonder- it was nice to see that emotion it brought out of him.

Many times when Tweek had been on his own and nearly experienced a panic attack (which didn’t really happen too often), thinking of Craig calmed him down. Reminding himself the details of his frowning face or describing his complex personality in a way a game show host might, Tweek found comfort in knowing someone better than his own messed up persona. 

During his thought process, Tweek sighed and closed his eyes as he listened to Craig’s words. He was going on now about Russians, maybe. The word ‘Sputnik’ stuck out, whatever the hell that was. His boyfriend’s next words made him freeze though, eyes opening and breath stopping.

“Hey, I’m going to let you go now, alright? Everything’ll be fine.”

“N-no, no no no what? Wait, C-Craig pl- AH! Please, please,” Tweek sat up now, tremors quickly returning. A headache was coming on, panic filling his blood. “No, w-w-wait,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Hey, Tweekers, trust me, alright? Take a breath, flex your fingers, just trust me okay?” Car now stopped, Craig scratched at the back of his neck, swinging the car keys around his long fingers. “All I’m asking is for you to trust me, Tweek.” 

On the other end, Tweek’s hand was already deep in his hair, legs pulled into his body tighter than ever. “N-nn… I-I do…”

“Good,” Craig breathed, sitting back in the seat, “now just take a deep breath. And take your hand out of your hair, dimwit. Kiss it for me.”

The chuckle through the phone’s speaker soothed him more than he realized, hand slipping out of his crazed blonde locks weakly. As the call ended, Tweek looked to his hand and frowned, curling up around it. Still jerking slightly, his chapped lips from constant biting came awkwardly against his hand, grunting a little at the strangeness. It wasn’t the same as the warm, smooth ones that sometimes smelt like nicotine, tickling his skin wherever they touched. Huddled in a tight and tense awkward ball on the corner of his mattress, the near-adult sighed, eyes dropping to half-lidded. 

Slowly, the door to his room opened, causing Tweek to jerk away and yelp loudly, a strange sound, one between a whimper and a scream. A head poked through a moment later, dark blue and worn yellow chullo covering black hair chunks that stuck out under the hat. Craig blinked at the mess of a man on the bed before turning off the light, he could tell by the way Tweek squinted a bit that the dark was much preferred. 

“Hey, Tweekers,” the taller male spoke, making his way to the bed where the other was bundled tightly in the corner. Slipping off his hat as he climbed into the bed, Tweek let out a very large sigh.

“J-jesus, Craig! You can't just- GEH! do-do that!” Though yelling, Tweek was already unfurling himself and making his way to the other. For Craig to even just  _ be _ there right now was already calming him down.

Sitting up, Craig looked at the blankets crumpled up at the edge of the bed, pulling them closer with his foot and straightening them out. Looking back over to Tweek, he smiled at the boy was also upright and closer to him. He sat hunched over a bit, hands fumbling together as he twitched. 

“Hey,” Craig started, hand coming up to cup Tweek's cheek, “I'm sorry. I'm here now though, so it's okay, alright?” Tweek leaned into the touch, big green eyes on Craig the whole time. He nodded, humming slightly when his cheek was kissed. “C’mere.”

Craig laid down, one arm holding up the blankets so Tweek could slip under them. Which he did, quickly, shifting over to his boyfriend’s warm and supportive chest. Blonde hair in a bigger mess than usual, it took Craig a minute before he could comfortably rest his head atop Tweek's. Face pressed into the offered neck, said teen held his breath as he buried his face into the warm crook, as close against the other body as possible. As Tweek settled, Craig lowered the arm holding up the sheets and wrapped it tightly behind the other's trembling back, pulling him tight against him.

A shaky and long warm breath hit his neck, reminding the much calmer male of the jittery state his lover was currently in. Giving him a moment to recover, Craig brushed his lips against Tweek's forehead, damp and close to perspiring. 

“Stripe misses you, he crawls on the side of the cage looking for you when I come home from school,” nuzzling the mop of blonde hair slightly, Craig’s hands absent-mindedly began rubbing slowly along the curve of Tweek’s back. He left his eyes closed as his palms ran up and down, focusing on helping the other relax. 

Tweek didn't speak still, only silently quivering in Craig’s grasp, small noises escaping occasionally. His hands loosely clutched at the dark blue fabric, soft from being so worn. It was Craig's favorites sweater. It was warm and smelt like him, and on more than one occasion he'd given it to Tweek to wear, grumbling about how he always wore such cold outfits. A couple times it had even been the only thing Tweek wore.

The jittery blonde pulled his legs up some, causing Craig to shift away for room and twist on his back. 

“Here, this is better,” grabbing Tweek behind his left knee and other hand pushing up his bottom, Craig pulled the smaller male up so he was on top of him, still a little on the bed for Tweek's comfort. Grunting, said man wrapped his thin arms around Craig's neck, receiving another kiss to his temple in response.

Tucking his head beneath his boyfriend’s chin, Tweek closed his eyes and sighed slightly, shifting as he felt Craig pull up the blankets to their new position. After a long moment of silence, Craig spoke up, questioning the smaller male.

“So, what was it this time?”

“Nightmare,” Tweek responded, frowning at the thought.

“New one?”

This time Tweek just nodded, still not quite up for full sentences yet. 

Craig nodded as well, furrowing his brows slightly. Made sense, it was obvious now. Tweek's nightmares were usually repeats, only slight changes happening if any. Though nightmares in itself were bad, they were predictable, each one becoming easier for Tweek to handle. New ones were absolute hell for his smaller boyfriend, the new content and experiences making it really hard for him to cope with it afterwards. The still coffee addict had improved over the years, getting more sleep and shaking even less, but one nightmare like this and it could undo nearly ten years of hard work for sometimes a week. Craig hated having to watch Tweek go through that.

A hand drifted up to the yellow mess of hair, nimble fingers combing through the disheveled locks. Tweek sighed again, stretching slightly like a cat and pulling himself closer to Craig as his grip around his neck shortened. Tweek nuzzled the exposed neck, smiling slightly as he provoked a reaction from the darker-haired male.

“Hey, you need to take a shower soon, coffee bean. Your hair's getting greasy,” Tweek's hair, nose, and breath tickled, and right now he was getting a combined attack of all three. Craig couldn't help the small smile that formed, poking at the head beneath the mop.

Smiling, Tweek drummed his fingers against the back of his own wrists, trying to hide the small grin from his words, “Only if y-you join me.”

Craig laughed- well, more like chuckled, he didn't flat-out laugh often- and sat up a little, pressing a chaste kiss to Tweek's nibbled lips. He smirked as he pulled back, replying, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

A short and a little choppy laugh escaped Tweek's mouth, a sign he was feeling better and causing Craig’s heart to flutter slightly. His body was still trembling, but it had subsided for the most part. Pulling him into a tight hug, Craig kissed his cheek and grunted, squeezing the blonde tight. 

“C-can I come over later? You got that new game, r-right?” Looking up at the other, Tweek rolled his lips in and tilted his head, fingers threading through the black hair closest to Craig’s neck.

That right there, that little quirk Tweek did and the tilt of his head, he probably wasn’t aware that he did it but god when he did Craig thought it was the cutest thing in the world. He smiled a genuine smile, rare and almost exclusively for Tweek, the kind that reached his eyes and made him squint a little. “Yeah, of course. I’ll make you coffee, too.”

Tweek smiled now, looking cheerful and satisfied. Craig almost forgot for a moment why he was even there in the first place.

“After our shower,” the blonde stated, huffing slightly.

“After our shower.” Repeated Craig with a nod, pinching his boyfriend’s nose briefly before placing another kiss to his mouth. Tweek sighed and closed his eyes, pressing back before pulling away.

“Which will be after I-I’m not so jumpy…” 

Brushing away a few light strands from Tweek’s face, Craig tilted his head and looked at the other, arms going back to resting on the blonde’s lower back. “Whatever you feel comfortable with doing, at your own pace.” 

Gifting the dark-haired male with that small smile, one that conveyed trust and gratitude, Tweek grabbed the blankets above him and pulled them around tight, face pressing back into Craig's chest. Since his blonde locks were longer, they fell down around his face and neck, resulting in the image of only a blob of yellow hair visible from the sheets.

Chuckling, Craig combed through the follicles one last time before dropping his hand. “If you need anything, I'm right here.”

He raised his eyebrow as Tweek mumbled into his chest, unclear and muffled. He understood perfectly well though, expression softening as he wrapped his arms around the other tight again.

“I love you too, Tweek. There's no need to thank me.”

  
And with a final kiss to Tweek's head, the two lie close together, in each other's arms and just quietly being. They didn't dare fall asleep, Tweek for fear of another nightmare and Craig for fear of not being there if his love needed. Alone together in the slightly messy room, morning light slowly flooding in through the curtains, the pair’s only sounds were breaths, the silence comfortable and appreciated.


End file.
